


30 moments of the Hour

by thinlyveiledsoul (sowl)



Category: The Hour
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, A bit all over the place, After Freddie came home, Before Freddie went away, Bel being stupid, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Freddie being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 21,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sowl/pseuds/thinlyveiledsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty glimpses into the relationship of Bel Rowley and Freddie Lyon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding hands (after)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 30 day tumblr prompt. It spans over their entire relationship which means it's slightly spoilerish for series 2. The idea is to illuminate their relationship by moments before and after the hiatus. The current events are in order while the past is mostly glimpses from different events in their history.
> 
> I usually write one chapter each evening which means they're unbetad and all that jazz. I have however tried to clean them up.

It’s getting late and the evening is making itself known at the office. Her staff is leaving one by one after finishing their tasks. It’s never been easy being Bel Rowley but she’s always been the best at it. Always ahead, always on top. Today she doubts herself.

She’s spent several hours with the typewriter without finishing her article. Without writing anything she’s remotely proud of. There’s been a shift inside her and the days are not the same anymore, something is different.

She’s always been a _tour de force_ , producing what’s had to be done. Even in the hardest times, the darkest times, she’s always had the ability to write. She’s gotten some of her best work done when she’s been under the most pressure, when the hours have been nothing more than a cloudy mix of stress and routine.The everyday flow has gone from her now. How did she do it before? How did she get through the days?

She can see Freddie from her desk. Sitting there like nothing has happened, his curly hair turning darker as the light behind him fades. Like it’s not been nine months. Like he hasn’t come back and turned her head around. Like he hasn’t crushed her.

She is used to stress and everyday agony but there’s something new now that has a hold of her. A feeling that makes the room feel stuffy, makes it hard to breath. The creeping sensation under her skin won’t disappear. Not even the old trick of washing her neck in cold water had any result.

She gets up and in a couple of strides she’s out on the stairs, in the quiet. The sound of the match flaring up is comforting and she lights a cigarette, draws a couple of deep breaths, wishing she’d borrowed some of Liz’s Bourbon.

“You can’t just run off like this Moneypenny.” His voice is soft and light. Only in the after though can she hear his concern. “Think of what people might say.” He sits down next to her, their thighs almost touching. She wants to tell him everything. How it feels inside of her. How hard it’s been these last months without him. How she's been on the verge of a breakdown, barely keeping it together. If it wasn’t for Liz she wouldn’t have gotten through it.

Everything felt out of hand without him to calm her down, lighten her mood, annoy her. The constant feeling of news and opportunities slipping through her fingers was the worst. Knowing it was all because she couldn’t keep her staff under control. She wants to lay her head on his shoulder again like they used to. In those days when they still had each other, despite of everyone else. Fixed points in chaos.

She doesn’t. She’s not ready. Not ready for him to dismiss her. Not ready to face her fears. She takes the easy way out. Another breath of smoke and then she puts on a smile for him, tilting her head lightly.

“James…” One of those radiant and effortless smiles she knows he enjoys. “With the tweed jacket again.” She reaches out to his salt and pepper collar, rough to the touch. “What must the girls say.” He can see through her. He always has had that ability. That and knowing when not to acknowledge it. His honest blue eyes, deep and earnest, how she’s missed them these last couple of months. The way they encourage her, comfort here, spur her.

“Moneypenny, you know how your eyes get when you cry.” He touches her cheek and smiles his best smile. “It’s not pretty.”

She looks further up the stairs, blinking back the anger and frustration, the tired lonely nights and all the letters she didn’t sent. Page after page that she wrote and threw out. Nothing feeling real enough. She wants to tell him why and she’s absolutely horrified that he could already know. She just wish this day would end. This and the following hundreds. However long it will take to get used to this.

He takes her hand. Twines his fingers with hers and lifts them to his lips. Warm and soft to the touch, she remembers that. He looks deep into her eyes when he lowers her hand, still holding firmly on to it.

“You’re splendid Moneypenny, and don’t you forget it.”


	2. Cuddling somewhere (before)

After giving it a hard push they both tumble into her flat laughing. Freddie swings around when he's taking his coat off, throwing it on a chair by the wall.

“What does it say about our nation that films like that are popular?” His voice is serious, a smile hinting only in the corner of his lips. He shakes his head. “I’m dismayed Moneypenny. In distress even. The youth of today. The youth of today!” It’s almost like he’s acting for her. Knowing how much she enjoys watching him.

“Fine.” She kicks off her shoes and removes the coat. “Next time I won’t even attempt to pick something out.” He’s teasing her of course. If a film didn’t interest Freddie Lyon it was never mentioned with a single word, this time he’d talked non-stop on the way home. Critiquing the film, the actors, the plot, the old ladies. In a way she loved how he went on and on, in another way she hated it and yet she couldn’t live without it. There was a certain comfort in his endless chatter, a window into his mind. She opens the fridge to see if she’s got anything to serve. She hasn’t, as usual.

“Bel Rowley. Writer _extraordinare_.” He takes her hand and looks into her eyes. “This is unbearable.” Ever so dramatic, her Freddie, with the gestures and the thoughts. His blue eyes twinkle. “Can't you feel it? I think your flat must be broken. It should be warmer than outside.” He looks around accusingly.

“My flat is not broken but the heating might be. Again.” She shakes her head. It’s truly cold in there. November, damp and chilly, seeping in to the flat. Freddie goes over to the counter, knowing her flat like he knows his own hands. They’ve been friends for years and he helped her move in two years ago. Since then he’s visited almost every day.

“Then you should get a new one where the heating works.” He pours them some of the wine from last night. She lights up a smoke.

“I don’t know, it sounds expensive.” The smile she gives him is teasing. “Maybe I should just get a new friend. One who knows how to fix the heating.”

“Bel Rowley. What you need is not a man who can fix the heating. What you need is someone who worships you. That will keep you warm longer than anything.” He hands her one of the glasses. “And you are in luck” He makes an elaborate bow. “You’ve got me.”

She laughs heartily at him. He’s a stupid boy with stupid ways and she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Yet my flat is cold.” She sips the wine. It’s better than it was yesterday. The wines you could afford on a writers salary usually needed a day or two to come to their right. She curls up on the sofa, tucking the feet under her for warmth. Freddie sits down beside her, the white shirt and grey vest really suits him.

“So what now James? What are our plans?” He seems deep in thought before he lights up.

“Moneypenny! Turn on the news machine. I’ve got a solution.” He’s up in an instance, heading towards her bedroom.

“Which one?” She shouts after him as he rushes to the rescue.

“The one with the pretty pictures.” It's said with a wink before he disappears through the doorway. She flicks the television on and heads back to the sofa. Freddie comes back with her blanket over his head, posing as a ghost.

“This should keep us warm.” He carefully wraps the blanket around her and then wiggles his way in under it.

“Ingenious, James, ingenious.” She leans against him so it covers them both, resting her head against his bony shoulder. He draws her closer in a friendly embrace, emitting warmth to heat her up.

“Do you see now how great it works out when you stop with the accountants and business owners.” He kisses her on the forehead and she snuggles closer.

“I bet they could fix my heating. Or buy me a new flat.” She touches his scruffy looking chin. “But you’re right James, there’s no one quite like you.” He can barely contain his smile and she doesn’t even try to.

“Now let’s see what the world’s been up to while we were gone wasting our precious youth.” His chest vibrates slightly when he speaks and she can feel her body resonate to his pulse. She closes her eyes. There’s a different world to experience when you’re close to Freddie. The days and hours have a different meaning to them, a different value. She wishes it would never stop.


	3. Gaming/watching a movie (after)

She turns off the last light at the office, it’s the yellow lamp she got from Freddie years ago. She’s always a bit reluctant to let it go dark. It’s silly, really, to be so fond of something just because of a memory.

The smell of ink and typewriters, usually so poignant in the morning, has died down with the sounds of the office. She grabs her coat and heads out. Even if she weren’t heading somewhere she’d probably be the last to go. The hard working producer. There was always something to do, something that required her attention. Even though the show was a success she knew there were people doubting her, she still felt a need to show off her skills.

From the hallway she can see the blue light of a film showing, the sounds of the footage they’ll air in two days. It’s Freddie's piece on the strike, he’s been working hard and she knows it’ll be another great one. She peeks into the room, he’s sitting in front of the screen with a notepad in hand. Working on the script.

“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” She almost swallows her words. They don’t have the same meaning they used to and she doesn’t need to remind herself where he’s going afterwards. It’s enough that it’s not with her.

“The news doesn’t wait for us Moneypenny. They don’t respect our lives or our plans.” He motions to the chair beside him and she obliges. “Can you believe this? We’re actually giving the everyday man a voice, a place to express his views.” Smiling at her. “We’re doing the work of democracy.” His eyes twinkling with excitement, the way they always do when he knows they are on to something. When they’ve found something spectacular.

“Wasn’t that always our plan?” All the plans they’d made over the years. So many different futures they would live together. “That and the children.” The smile she gives him is warm but a bit stiff. It’s too easy to loose herself in their usual banter.

“The private jet and the big house.” He laughs heartily. She thinks she can hear a hint of sadness in the laugh, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “I guess democracy was on the table as well.”

“I really do miss you Freddie. I did miss you when you were gone.” He’s observing the footage, still taking notes. She wants to shake him, as if that could turn back time. “It wasn’t the same without you, here, it never is.” And now it’s not even the same when he’s here. She pushes those thoughts away. She has a special corner in her mind for those. A hidden corner that’s been overflowing for quite some time.

“Don’t be sentimental Bel Rowley. It doesn’t suit you.” He gives her a quick look before he returns to his speech. “You’ve always been capable of standing on your own.”

“You know what I mean, Freddie.” The way he doesn’t reply, she’s sure he knows. It doesn’t make her feel better, not really. She hates that they’re drifting apart. They were not supposed to do that. They of all people were supposed to be close, forever.

“I have to go now, will you lock up?” He nods and she turns away. “Good night, James.” It didn’t use to be like this. It didn’t use to feel like she was gutted every time she left him. She wished it’d stop but is afraid what loosing that would mean.

“Good night, Moneypenny.” His voice, soft with all that used to be between them and no longer was.


	4. On a date (before)

“What do you say Moneypenny. Isn’t this just one of the best dates you’ve ever been on?” They’re sitting in a small restaurant, one of those places they go to from time to time. The only difference this time is that they’re on a pity date.

“It couldn’t be better James, the food is marvellous and the staff is charming.” Her date had cancelled in the last minute. She wasn’t too fond of him to begin with and this certainly didn't improved his image. Freddie had convinced her to go on a date anyway. The perfect way to forget about it. He’d told her that someone like that was not worth wasting an evening on anyway.

“Don’t forget about the excellent and romantic walk we had earlier and how beautifully I’ve arranged the stars outside.” Freddie pours them some more wine. His slender fingers wrapping around the wine cup as he proposes yet another toast, smiling and giggling. It’s nice to see him like this. He’d been so quiet since his father got worse, it felt good to see him back in his old ways.

“The stars are a bit much I think, did you really have to use so many?” He always makes her forget all her worries and troubles. He can make her smile with only one look, make her giggle with only one word. There’s truly no one like her Freddie.

“Why do you even wait for them Bel? You’re so much better than that.” The way he says it. Suddenly so honest. He’d always been a serious man, even through all his silliness. She lights up a cigarette and draws a big breath of smoke, drinking some more wine.

“I guess I’m just hopelessly naive. Or too optimistic.” She smiles at him. “Isn’t it time you found a nice girl of your own?” She touches the hem of his jacket. “It would do you good.”

“How could I?” He shrugs and looks into her eyes. “No one could compete with you.” She blushes. He has a way with words her Freddie. Lix never wastes a breath, always telling her how stupid she is not to just go for it. The truth is that she’s scared. She’s never had a relationship that’s lasted more than six months and she couldn’t bear the thought of loosing this. How could she ever gamble with one of the best things in her life?

They both go to her place afterwards and she falls asleep in his lap. He’s reading her his favourite Keats, his voice so comforting. She wakes up when he gets up to go home, keeping her eyes closed she pretends that she doesn’t. He puts a blanket over her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Goodnight Moneypenny.” His whisper is filled with affection. She wishes she could ask him to stay longer. To spend another night laughing and being close. This time she doesn’t dare, not after a date. Even if it wasn’t a real one. She just wish she didn’t feel so lonely when he leaves.


	5. Kissing (after)

She leans on her desk flipping through the file she has for next weeks program. It’s not much, only a couple of ideas but they’ve just wrapped for this week. It was a good program. They’re getting their edge back. If she could only push them a bit harder.

“What have you been up to Moneypenny?” Freddie is leaning in the doorway smiling at her. “I never see you anymore.” He’s looking dapper in his new suite. Suddenly he has become a face for the camera. “Have you met another mediocre man to focus your attention on?” She suspects that he doesn’t pick the clothes himself. It looks good on him but they don’t have that old familiar feel to them. Doesn’t feel like him.

“Maybe.” She doesn’t look up, idly shuffling the pages. “You did a good job today.” Her voice is neutral, his presence is almost exhausting to her, the way she has to bottle her emotions around him. She doesn’t sleep well any more.

“A new banker?” His eyes twinkle when he goes up to her. She’s not in the mood for teasing.

“Sure.” She meets his eyes. Her smile is not spreading further than the corners of her mouth, fading quickly.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” She can hear the light tone fading away from his voice. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I always notice you.”

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” She adverts her eyes to the notes in her hand, sighs and puts them on the table beside her.

“Your eyes looks squinty, Moneypenny.” She turns away. This is not a conversation she’s prepared to have with him. He grabs hold of her wrist, pulling it slightly in order to make her face him.

“Why are you lying to me?” He tilts his head, trying to meet her eyes, the way he always does when he’s concerned.

“I’m not lying to you Freddie.” She tries to keep her voice steady but it only sounds tired. Betraying how she feels.

“Fine. What are you not telling me?” He touches her cheek. “You look so pale, so tired. Like you’re under a lot of stress. I know you are. I do. But this is not how you are when you’re under pressure.” He moves closer, trying again to catch her eyes. This time she obliges. “You blossom under pressure Moneypenny. That’s one of the best things about you. When you’re cornered, when a situation is urgent or difficult, you shine.” His eyes narrow. “This is not like you. There’s something else going on. Is someone hurting you? Is that it?” There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, pleading even. Tears of exhaustion are burning behind her eyelids. She cannot bare it. The heavy heart, how being close to him nearly guts her. She leans in and presses her lips against his. Her hand around the back of his head.

The soft and warm touch of their lips meeting sends shivers through her body. She can feel him going still, then wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She should have done this years ago, she shouldn’t have been so afraid. Freddie must feel the same way because he can’t help but kiss her back. Their kiss grows deeper, suddenly caught in a moment that’s been waiting for them for so long.

After what feels like forever, or just a brief moment, he moves his head to the side and embraces her. His temple against her ear. Faintly he whispers. “I’m sorry.” There’s a long pause. She’s too caught up in her spinning head to even notice it. “This is a bad idea.” She can barely hear him but the sadness in his voice resonates with the pain that’s once more growing in her heart.

“I know.” She runs her fingers through his hair. Along his neck. He shivers under her touch. “We should have done this long ago.” Closing her eyes, she whispers. “Why didn’t we?”

“I can’t, Bel.” He leans his head against her shoulder. ”I really can’t.”

“I won’t ask you to.” She bites her lip. “There’s only ever been you, you know.” She blurts it out, can’t help herself, not now. “You’re the only one who knows me. The only one who matters.” He doesn’t say anything. Their bodies are still close, heaving with each breath. Their hearts beating fast. She can feel the tears rising in her eyes, she tries to blink them back. “Would it have made a difference if I’d written to you?.” Her voice is almost shaky.

“I… don’t know.” He’s almost speechless. She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him speechless. “I honestly don’t.” He hugs her closer. “I missed you so much, you know.”

“I know. I missed you too.” He releases his hold of her. Touching her arm with his slender fingers.

“Why now?” She can hear his voice tremble.

“I don’t want to loose you.” It’s nothing more than a whisper. “Do you know how hard it’s been? Knowing that you’re slipping away?” She runs her fingers over the flaps of his jacket. “I can’t loose you.”

“I’ve always done everything for you. You know that.” He takes her hand and his eyes are pleading with her. “You know that right?.”

She forces herself to nod. He’s always been there for her. Always helping her.

“But this. I can’t do this for you. I can’t.” He looks at their hands, twined together. “I should go.” There’s a yet another pause and the air around them grows heavier. He touches her cheek. “I won’t leave you if your crying, Bel. I won’t .” She looks away. Turns her body from him and takes a deep breath. Braces herself.

“I’m not. Not crying. You can go.” There’s the silence of Freddie hesitating, the sound of him doubting her. Knowing her all too well. It might be more than she can take. Then he lets go of her hand, turns, walks away. Each step is like a knife in her heart. Just like that he’s gone and she’s left alone. Stupid and alone. Lix was right. Sometimes it’s just too late.


	6. Wearing eachother's clothes (before)

The walls are so thin that she can hear Freddie's distinct voice from the other end of the apartment. It’s hard not to smile when he’s humming away on some Presley in the bath tub. It’s a nice voice he carries around, even if he wouldn’t want to admit it himself.

She’s standing by the kitchen sink twisting the water out of his clothes. He was completely drenched when he stood at her door, water dripping from his dark curls and from every piece of clothing he had on him. All that just to bring her the book she’d wanted, which now lies drying on the kitchen table.

 _Have you noticed it’s a bit damp outside, Moneypenny?_ Stupid boy, she’d forced him to take a bath when she heard him coughing. He could have gotten himself sick. She pushes one of the towels on the floor with her foot so it covers up another small puddle she hasn’t noticed before. They’d had to pour the water out of his shoes. She will buy him an umbrella, he really needs one.

When she’s done she goes in and sits by his side.

“It was not your brightest move coming here.” Using her best accusatory look. ”What if you’ve caught a cold?” It’s hard to hide the worry in her voice. He’s so thin now. A severe cold could keep him down for a long time.

“I told you before Moneypenny, if you’re going to write about the situation in France you really can’t do without this book.” He splashes some water on her and she returns the favour. At least he uses hot water.

“You’re incorrigible. What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Feed me and keep me warm?” That earns him a laugh and she gets up to put on some tea.

The socks and his shirt are the only things she could fit over a radiator, the other cloths are hanging around the kitchen when he gets out of the bath. Towel around the hips he sit down by her kitchen table.

“Bel Rowley, last time I heard you were above serving tea to co-workers.” His hair is combed back and he smiles warmly at her. Looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“Are you saying we’re only co-workers James? Here I thought our friendship was blossoming.” Teasing him is so much fun, always has been and she can’t see that it will ever stop.

“It is Moneypenny, it is, but sometimes the call of duty gets too strong, muddling even the best of relations.” If she thought he honestly wanted tea and wasn’t just out to tease her she would possibly even consider making him a cup at the BBC. He was after all a man who made her bend a lot of her principles. Not entirely true, he’d made her realise that a lot of them were old fashioned and useless.

Even after a cup of tea he’s still shivering and she throws him one of her bathrobes, something which is rewarded with a sceptical look.

“I’m not wearing this, Bel.” It’s her favourite one, dark red and quilted. She’s had it for years, which you can tell if you look closely. At least it’s warm enough for the cold apartment.

“Don’t be stupid Freddie. Your clothes won’t dry for hours.” The sceptical look she awards him is accompanied with a smile. “Are you really that vain?”

Shaking his head he puts it on. Bel does not laugh at him. “It does suit you, the colour I mean, you look good in red.” She does a good job not even letting her smile get wider. “It’s really a classy colour, James.” He smiles at her the way he does when he knows she’s making fun of him but doesn’t know how to retort. A small victory for her. “If you don’t like it I’m sure I have a blouse and skirt you can borrow.” This earns her an honest laugh and that adorable smile of his.

“Fine, you win. I’ll wear it. I’ll enjoy it, and as soon as my clothes are dry I’ll never look back.”

They curl up in the sofa, watching the news, she supplies them with blankets and a drink each.

“I should really get going.” He puts his empty glass down and she smiles at him, shaking her head.

“I’m not letting you out of this apartment until your clothes are dry.” Lighting a cigarette she gestures towards the kitchen. “Which looks like it’ll be tomorrow, at earliest.”

“Is that a threat?” Those twinkling eyes of his, they make her belly warm.

“Come on Freddie. We both know you couldn’t get out of the apartment, even if you wanted to. You can’t open the door from inside. You just don’t have the raw strength it demands.” It’s not much of a resistance he puts up. After all, it’s not the first night he spends at her place, sleeping on the sofa, but it is the first time he goes to bed smelling like her.


	7. Cosplaying (before)

Freddie leans in over her. She notices it by the thud his hands make when he pushes both of them down on her desk.

“It’s time to go Moneypenny. Get your coat. Some of us are going out for drinks and you’re coming with us.” His head is the same height as hers and he’s staring into her eyes.

“Am I? I thought I had work to do.” She smiles at him coyly.

“Nonsense. Nothing could be more important than this.” He’s smiling and shaking his head. “We’re celebrating you see. Something. There is something that needs celebrating and the need is imminent.” She can’t help but laugh at him.

“Well then, I guess I don’t have any choice.” She grabs her coat.

“No you don’t Moneypenny. A celebration must be made and tonight is the night”. The rest of the crowd is already down the corridor. She gives him a slight push as she buttons her coat, it makes him wobble slightly.

“Has Lix filled you up already? I thought you were working on a story.”

“We are. We are working. On a story. Lix said stories are always best told over a drink.” It’s an undignified giggle he makes and she can’t help but join him. “Sounds like something Lix would do.”

“She sure does, Moneypenny.”

“Freddie.” She stops and looks him in the eyes. “Could we drop the names. Just for tonight? If we’re to celebrate, I’d rather do it as Bel and Freddie.” He shakes her head at her and his smile is growing even wider.

“No. I’ve got an better idea! Tonight we go out as James and Moneypenny.” Turning his profile towards her he drags his hand through the hair. “Don’t you think I look the part?”

“Not with the wild and untamed hair.” She can’t help to ruffle it, feeling his dark locks between her fingers. “It’s too much of Freddie Lyon in it. Do you think James Bond would ever let his hair reach his eyes.”

“Don’t spoil the fun Bel. Don’t you just get tired of being yourself sometimes?” Combing his hair backwards does actually make him look like someone who is not unlike how she imagines James Bond. She straightens his tie.

“Fine. I’ll be someone else for you, but I won’t be your secretary.” Her finger taps his nose quickly before she puts both her hands at her hips.

“You can be my mistress then.” That wide and slightly drunk smile of his is more charming than she’d like to admit. She takes him under the arm and they continue out of the building.

“Are you honestly giving me those choices? I can either be your secretary or your mistress?” Her curls bobbles as she shakes her head. “How far we’ve come. I’m sure the suffragettes would rejoice.”

“Who would you want to be then?” It’s a serious question. “If you can be anyone, who would you be?”

“I don’t know, M?” She straightens her skirt and her back. She’s tired of everyone thinking that she can’t be anything great. She works twice as hard as most of the men at the office. A couple of them doesn’t even write half as well as her. Still she has a harder time getting the pay and the appreciation they get without even trying.

“I don’t think the world is ready for you as M.” He laughs.

“Don’t you think I could do it?” She’s slightly offended. Freddie always believes in her. He’s the only one who does. Well, that’s not entirely true. Lix always has her back and she gladly returns the favour.

“Bel Rowley, I have no doubt that you could be the best M the world has ever seen. I just don’t think they could handle it.” He puts his arm around her and pulls her close.

“Fine. I’ll be your secretary then.” She mumbles under her breath, oddly flattered.

“Who knows, maybe you’re an undercover spy.”


	8. Shopping (after)

She’s already regretting it. It’s wasn’t a good idea to begin with and it’s stupidity is growing by the minute. It’s always been hard, resisting his puppy eyes and his wit. Not to mention that charming smile of his. In this case she was definitely tricked by his blue pleading eyes.

It’s not the first time she’s helped him pick out clothes or accessories. He didn’t know anything about it or even about style when she first met him. Now he has one of his own. It is however the first time she’s helped him pick out a gift for his lady friend. It’s silly of her to use that term but the other one, the proper one, is frankly absurd.

“I like this one but it’s more you than her. Looks a bit like that favourite of yours, you know the one you always wear with that blue dress.” The smile he gives her is wide enough to show the wrinkles around his eyes. In return he gets a forced one from her and a small nod. Her heart is not really in it, it’s more likely sunken somewhere out of sight.

He browses the selection carefully. Examining each piece closely. Freddie and his eye for detail. “She rarely uses jewellery at all. I want to get her something subtle. I know she’d like that.” Bel can’t stop herself from wondering how he could know what she likes. They’ve know each others for a couple of months at the most. How can he possibly know her already? It’s not like them, Bel and Freddie, Moneypenny and James, they _know_ each other. That is real. How could anything compare to that?

“This one then?” She gestures towards a simple blue necklace without much enthusiasm. She doesn’t really feel drawn to the idea that she’s helping to pick something out that will make them closer.

“It would be nice with her eyes.” He smiles, more at the idea than at Bel which stings a bit. “Thank you. I’m glad you wanted to help. Even if you don’t like her.” It’s not that she doesn’t like her. It would be easier that way. If she could hate her, or even despise her, but the girl seems nice. It’s the other things she doesn’t like. How she wiggles her way between the two friends. How she takes up his time and that he no longer gives Bel his most radiant smiles.

“I don’t dislike her Freddie. She’s a nice girl and as long as you’re happy.” She looks out the window. Another lie she tells herself. She wants him to be happy, that’s true, but not like this. It makes her feel horrible that she’d rather see him miserable than with someone else. Then again, that’s how see feels now. Miserable. With no one to comfort her. Her confidante just out of reach.

He buys the stupid necklace. Now she’ll have to know she helped him every time she sees it. He used to walk her home, even if he was going the other way. He used to always have time for her. Today, much like yesterday and the day before, she goes home alone. At least she didn’t cry until she got inside.


	9. Hanging out with friends (after)

“Isaac should have gone for it.” Bel's eyes are drifting from the poor man at the bar to the happy couple jiving away on the dance floor. “I’m happy for Sissy but I don’t think he will get another chance. He shouldn’t have hesitated.” She takes a sip of her drink, the sour taste clearing her head.

Lix lights a cigarette and rewards her with a meaningful look. “Are we talking about you now?” When Bel looks doesn’t reply she continues. “You can’t blame Isaac honey. He’s in good company. We’ve all waited too long. Let the chase get away from us. We’ve all been stupid. How could you expect poor Isaac to do what we can’t do ourselves?” She takes a sip of her bourbon. “I’m frankly surprised Freddie managed to snatch someone.” She gestures towards the appallingly happy couple at the corner table, huddled close together, laughing, like they’re the only world they care about. Bel finds it hard not to stare, a frustrated an undignified sigh escapes her.

“Sweetheart. You really should try to let it go. It’ll be easier for everyone.” It’s a kind smile Lix give her. “I know it from experience, so trust me, holding a grudge will only dig you deeper down.”

“They don’t even seem that happy.” She turns to Lix whose only response is to give her the best are-you-kidding-me look she can, from above her glasses. It’s something she does when she tries to look stern.

“Yes.” Bel breaks away from the other woman's gaze. “It might seem like they’re happy right now but they do seem to argue a lot.” Bel lowers her voice. “She throws things at him. It’s not healthy.” Lix laughs heartily at this, drawing another breath on her cigarette.

“She’s French, honey, that’s what they do. It doesn’t mean she they won’t last forever. They just have a different passion in their relationship.” Lix shakes her head and mutters something under her breath about French women. It’s an pleasant and uncomfortable feeling that runs through Bel's body as Freddie comes up to the bar and order two drinks.

“What are you two girls talking about.” He leans in on them while he’s waiting for the order.

“About you of course.” Lix smiles at him, her voice teasing. “Freddie Lyon, the centre of our worlds.” She straightens his tie. “You have no idea how happy it makes me, seeing you with a big and stupid smile on your face. Such a difference from when you left.”

“It did me good. I got new perspectives on life. What every journalist needs. You of all people must know that.” He smiles at Lix. Bel thinks it looks vaguely stiff.

“Left everything behind without hesitation.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. It’s hard not to. It hurts the way she hoped for him to come back. Her hesitation. How happy she was when he came and how it shattered her.

“I came back.” He’s standing close to her. Between the her and Lix. She could reach out and touch him. His white shirt, the curls on his head or his white cheek.

“I guess you did, in a way.” If things were as they used to be. As they were supposed to be she’d say the look he gives her is meaningful. She doesn’t know anymore. It’s like they’ve drifted apart. She can’t read him any longer. He has so many secret things about him. So much she’s not part of.

“You stayed.” There’s something in his eyes. A hint of sadness? “You could have written.” The tone of his voice is almost accusing.

“Oh, kiss and make up already.” Lix waves her cigarette around. “The way you two argue, it makes the whole office uncomfortable. You’re friends, always have been, behave like it.” Bel reaches for her coat.

“I guess I should go.” When she gets up he leans closer.

“Stay Moneypenny.” He gives her a light kiss on the cheek and she can feel his stubble against her soft skin. “I’m sorry.” It’s only a whisper in her ear, meant for no one else. It sends a shiver through her. The same voice, the same words he whispered in her ear that evening. _I really can’t_. She watches his back as he walks away, drinks in his hands. There’s no reason to hope. It’s stupid of her to think otherwise.


	10. With animal ears (before)

It’s not much of an apartment really. Resembling more a hole in the wall than anything you should live in, so dark and so tiny that there’s barely room for a television set by the sofa. A sofa that, by it’s placement, boarders on being a kitchen utility. Bel doesn’t care that it can’t fit more than five people at a time. It’s hers and hers alone, away from that mother who’s so unlike her. Not that it matters where the television is if they can’t get it working.

“You’ve been back there for almost 20 minutes, it’s still completely black.” Freddie’s hunching over the stupid machine. His jacket thrown on the sofa, right next to where she’s crawled up. She can hear him grunting.

“If you’re so capable, why don’t you do it yourself?” His body is wiggling with the movement, it mesmerises her. It’s almost impossible to figure out what he’s up to.

“I am not he one who claimed I could repair it.” She sighs and climbs out of the sofa to get to the kitchen, it’s the only way to go when the television is drawn forward like that. Luckily that leaves her right next to the kitchen table.

“We have to make it work Freddie. It’s an historical moment. If we ever want to work at the BBC we cannot miss this.” There’s two glasses already on the counter, she takes them and balances a bottle of gin as she crawls back in to the sofa. “A historical moment that probably won’t but might require us to drink ourselves senseless on this fine drink.” She puts the glasses and the bottle on the floor beside the sofa, trying to hide her wide smile but it’s hard. He’s cute when he’s making an effort, even if he’s failing miserably.

“This was not what I imagined would happen when Verda suggested I’d recruit a handsome young man to repair the television.” A giggle escapes her lips. That mother of hers. It was hard to imagine that they were in any way related.

“Do you think I’m handsome?” The black curls makes an appearance from behind the television set. A big and somewhat cautious smile on his face, the blue eyes twinkling.

“No, and you’re not making the television work either.” The smile she gives him is radiant. She’s so glad she’s met him, he lights up her grey days, someone going the same direction as her.

The television makes a buzzing sound and Freddie backs away suddenly, tripping over the small table and lands on the sofa, almost in her lap. “Well, well, well. That’s what I call progress.” Smiling at her he points at the television right in front of them. There’s a grainy picture, a whirlwind of black and white dots, dancing away. There is sound but it’s too distorted to make out words. “Am I handsome now?” She punches him on the upper arm.

“Freddie Lyon. Are you sitting in my lap asking me if I think you’re handsome? What kind of gentlemen are you?” She points at the miserable machine in front of them. “We won’t get any election results if you can’t get the sound or the picture working.”

“You’re never satisfied Bel Rowley. That’s one of the things I love about you.” He gives her a boyish smile before he attacks the rabbit ears. Adjusting them slowly he makes the picture dance with his movements.

“You’re almost there. It’s better when it’s higher.” He smiles and takes the portable antenna and puts it up on his head. “Like this?” Rabbit ears indeed. Such a silly boy.

“Nothing. Sorry. Try to put them back again.” He fakes a sad smile and restores them.

“That’s it!” Freddie backs away from the television set once more. This time she can clearly see Richard Dimbleby. Her friend pours them both some gin before he sits down, handing her one of the drinks.

“Promise me Bel Rowley, that when we run the BBC we will put an end to this ban on debate.” Their glasses meet in a toast.

“Of course Freddie. We will bring a new and exciting future with us.” The sofa is small, more like a glorified chair, they’re huddled closely together. She doesn’t mind though, sitting close by her friend witnessing the historical emission of the general election results. Not much more she could wish for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [walkingtheborders](http://walkingtheborders.tumblr.com/) for alerting my attention to the rabbit ears. I didn't know they were called that. 
> 
> If it interests you, [this](http://news.uk.msn.com/uk/images.aspx?cp-documentid=153027243) is what they're talking about.


	11. Wearing kigurumis (after)

The room is filled with people dressed more or less like animals. Often it feels like the BBC takes every opportunity to serve alcohol to their staff, this time it’s the recent success of the new units; Natural History and Travel and Exploration. The invitation going out to everyone specified the need to dress in animal costumes. The efforts varies wildly. Bel though she saw a glimpse of Isaac in a cow suite while Lix is over in the corned decidedly dressed as no one but herself.

Bel did make an effort. She wears her yellow blouse with a yellow skirt and has made an orange collar out of paper. They used to go to these things for the free alcohol and the opportunity to laugh at people, her and Freddie. Always having a good time no matter how dull the people attending were.

She sees them as soon as the enter the room. They are dressed up as dogs, both of them, their noses painted in black. They’re adorable. She really wish they weren’t. Looking quickly around she contemplates how to disappear from the room. Not quickly enough, apparently, they come up to her. Freddie smiles at her and Camille kisses her on the cheeks, she never knew how much she hated this particular French tradition.

“So, you are a lion yes?” Camille smiles at her with soft and kind eyes. Every now an then she steals a glance at Freddie, her smile widening.

“A male lion at that.” His eyes sparkle that way they do when he’s teasing her. Where they alone, Bel is sure he would wink at her. Or at least call her Moneypenny. He never does that around Camille. His terms of endearments are more and more reserved for that woman. Bel gives them both a forced smile, taking a couple of large sips of her Martini.

“Of course she is Freddie. She is the powerful one. The leader.” Camille touches his chest radiating adoration and happiness, putting his hand over hers he returns the favour.

“Yes. Right.” Bel looks around at the crowd and spots Lix at a safe distance. “I really should go. You two, have a nice time.” She almost stumbles in her hurry to get away from them. On the way over to Lix she disposes of her empty drink and acquires a new one.

“Haven’t you dressed for the occasion Lix?” The blue pants, the white blouse, she looks the same as always where she’s standing, drawing deep breaths on her cigarette.

“I’m an old bird.” She exhales a cloud of smoke. “Didn’t require much of a costume.” The laugh that bubbles up in Bel's throat is a relief. That woman knew how to poke fun at everything.

“I see. Of course.” She surveys the crowd. People from different departments and units, known and unknown to her. It’s a large crowd but her eyes involuntarily returns to Freddie time and again, no matter how hard she’s trying to not to notice the happy couple.

“What am I doing here Lix?” The collar she’s wearing is not very comfortable and itching, she pulls it slightly.

“Not pining away I hope.” Lix's gaze is stern but well meaning. “You’re the producer of a successful show, you should make connections. This is an opportunity for you.” Following Bel's eyes to Freddie she shakes her brown curls. “You should let him go Bel. He’s not likely to leave the show and neither are you.”

The shoes on Bel's feet are not more exciting than they were a moment ago, yet she examines them closely.

“I kissed him Lix.” There’s a pitying sigh from her friend. “A couple of weeks back.”

“Oh, honey.” Lix strokes Bel's cheek with her warm fingers. “I think you need something more than what they’re serving here.” She takes Bel by the hand and leads her away. “I think I have just the thing in my office drawer.”

They don’t even turn on the lights when they get to her office. Bel finds the dark comforting and pulls off the stupid collar, throwing it in the bin. Lix serves them both generously of the strong drink.

“The married man Bel, it didn’t work the last time and it won’t work now.” Lix doesn’t even attempt to mask her concern for her producer, sighing heavily. “Freddie’s not yours to take. Not anymore. Things have changed.”

Bel's throat hurts even before she says anything. “He kissed me back.” There’s a very defensive tone to her words and Lix squeezes her hand.

“You’ll only break your own heart if you continue. Or even worse, make it wither away slowly.” Bel can feel the hot tears dwell up in her eyes but Lix continues. “I know you think you were meant for each other, you weren’t the only ones, but this is the end sweetheart. Take it from someone who knows, you’re better off if you let it go.” Bel can feel a warm arm wrap around her, drawing her close. She rests her head against the soft shoulder, a tear finding it’s way down her cheek. Lix was right as usual. If only she had listened to her sooner.


	12. Making out (after)

She wakes up with a start, something is not as it should be. It’s the knocking. It’s two o’clock in the morning and someone is pounding at her door. She puts on her dressing gown and gets up. As she gets closer she can hear a familiar voice saying her name. When she opens the door she’s met by a sight that almost cuts her heart open. Freddie’s leaning against the door frame, his eyes are pleading, red with tears. She can smell the whiskey off of him.

With the slow and deliberate way of the drunk he composes himself before he addresses her, articulating carefully. “Can I come in?” She can’t refuse, she won’t even try. Heavily he takes his usual place on her sofa and she makes a cup of tea for him, he doesn’t even touch it.

“She doesn’t want to stay here anymore Bel. She wants to go back home.” His eyes are desperate and she sits down next to him. It hurts her to see him like this, completely torn to pieces. If that’s not enough the mere thought of him leaving makes her cold inside. “You wouldn’t ever do that to me Moneypenny. Would you?” The red around his eyes accents the blue, making them even more incredible. His pleading voice stabs in her heart. “You wouldn’t force me to leave you. _This_.” He’s so drunk. The words are falling out if him, nothing like his usual deliberate way. “Force me to leave this, London and everything. Would you?” She doesn’t know what to say. If this was what she thought she wanted she’s now certain that she was wrong. It’s not the pieces of a heartbroken man she wants. It’s her old friend with his silly and elated ways.

“Freddie.” She strokes a curl of his hair away from his eyes. “Why are you here?” She’s almost begging him not to be. She hates it but he should be with his wife. Not make her suffer like this. She wishes she could be there for him but it hurts too much.

“She threw me out Bel.” His soft voice is ragged. Tears once again forming in his dried out eyes. She runs her hand over his head, trying to comfort him, mixed emotions eating away in her chest. Hope is the worst thing. It makes it so hard to let go.

He leans towards her. The time and her heart seems to slow down. His mouth meets hers and she should pull away but she doesn’t, yielding to the built up desire. His lips are soft and his tongue touches hers, smoke and alcohol on his breath. She can feel her cheeks growing wet with his tears. Joy or despair, it doesn’t matter. He pulls her closer and she doesn’t try to stop him, wrapping her arm around him. Her hands feeling their way are under his jacket. She really should stop but she can’t. His hand in her hair, around her waist, it fills her with warmth. What kind of friend is she? He needs comfort and she’s taking advantage, succumbing to her treacherous heart.

It’s not until he pulls her over him that she forces herself to act, struggling with the part of her that wants nothing more than to give in, ignoring the consequences. She only manages to pull away slightly, her hand on his chest.

“You don’t want this.” She feels as if she’s moving through water. It’s hard to breath and her head is far from clear. His eyes are pleading with her.

“I’ve loved you for so long Bel.” He kisses her once more, mumbling. “There’s only ever been you.” The tears are burning behind her eyes, one escaping hot and wet down her cheek. Because it should be true, but it’s not. She strokes his cheek, feeling exhausted, she can see that he’s too.

“You should try and get some sleep Freddie. I’m sure she’s changed her mind in the morning.” She hates herself for saying it, almost as much as she hates that it’s probably true. “You said it yourself. She’ll forgive you. Forgive you for keeping her here. And in the end…” She trails off taking the breath that’s caught in her throat. Her hand stroking the stubble on his cheek. “In the end she’ll love you more for it.”

He’s already asleep when she covers him with the blanket. She puts a glass on the table next to him for the headache he’ll have in the morning. She washes her head in cold water, trying her best to pretend that she’s alone. It’s almost impossible to fall asleep, twisting and turning in her bed, only when the sun finally rises does she get a moment of rest. When she gets up he’s gone. Like a figure of her imagination.


	13. Eating icecream (before)

It’s one of those rare summer days that are so hot that it’s impossible to stay at the office. They’re all outside, resting in the shadows, wishing that at least the wind would show some mercy. Lix and Bel are leaning against the wall, waiting for Freddie and Isaac to come back with the ice-cream they promised.

“How can you honestly drink in this heat Lix?” Bel is fanning herself with a piece of paper sceptically eyeing the glass Lix has in her hand.

“Oh, honey, not drinking would be letting the heat win.” She lights up a smoke and waves at the men coming towards them. “Finally, I thought they’d perished. I learnt to handle the heat in Spain. These London boys wouldn’t last a second there.”

Bel is eagerly reaching out the hand to snatch her cone from Freddie's hand.

“Now Moneypenny, greed doesn’t suit you.” He winks at her. “Say please.”

“I swear Freddie. If you don’t give me that bloody cone I’m not responsible for my actions.” She really regrets the tight skirt she’s wearing today. It’s making the sweat run down her thighs.

“That’s an unusual way of saying thanks but I accept your gratitude.” Smiling he hands her the cone with a mock bow. It’s vanilla. She’d prefer chocolate but Freddie doesn’t like it. He only ever buys her ice-cream he can sneak a taste of if he would want to.

“So what are we working on?” Lix holds her ice-cream in one hand, her glass and cigarette in the other. She does seem fairly untouched by the horrible heat.

“I have a piece on the implications the Russian diamond mine might have on our security.” Freddie’s almost eaten his cone. “Or rather had. They won’t run it. Which is pure stupidity. Why they would rather report on Ruth Ellis once more is completely beyond me.”

“Isn’t this the third story you don’t get to out?” Bel gives him a concerned look. He’s a great reporter and the fact that he doesn’t get to run his stories annoys her. He has a great voice in his writing. “Maybe you should try writing something more in the lines of what they want.”

“Just because they don’t like the news doesn’t mean it’s not worth telling.” He draws a breath of smoke on the cigarette that now has replaced his cone. “We as journalists have a responsibility to tell the public what they don’t want to hear, if it’s something that they must. Everything else is censorship.”

“Hear, hear.” Lix throws the rest of the cone away in favour of her whiskey. “It’s our responsibility to push the edge on what gets reported.”

“I know, I know.” It’s not the first time they’re teaming up on her, she can handle their stubbornness. “It’s just that if you don’t produce anything they want you’ll end up fired and then you won’t have any edge to push.” It’s a warm smile she gives them both, even if it lingers a bit longer on her friend. “And James, we really couldn’t manage here without our mascot. ”


	14. Genderswapping (after)

"It is out of the question Miss Rowley." Randall's voice is firm and leaves no room for doubt or questioning, yet she finds herself opposing his stance.

"This is preposterous. We can't have Freddie on, he has no voice." She tries to collect herself in a manner which radiates confidence. Anything that doesn't make her sound like a defiant child.

"No, Miss Rowley. What you're suggesting is preposterous." The tall man arranges the papers on his desk so that they are in perfect symmetry.

"Freddie will do just fine. He's produced before." Freddie's standing by her side, silently enjoying this of course. Why wouldn't he, always up against something or someone.

"You know what I mean." Randall's voice is stern and serious as he collects the paper-clips into neat rows. "There is no way that this show will have a female presenter." It's clear to her that he feels cornered but she doesn't get the feeling that he will back down. His straightened back and his clean and immaculate look never signals defeat.

"Tell him, Lix." The older woman has so far been quite, participating in the debate only with her amused smile and the rare roll off her eyes. She puts her cigarette down.

"You're the one who wanted controversy Randall. It doesn't get any more controversial than this." The smile she gives him is teasing as well as superior, slightly patronising. There are some words from Freddie but his sore throat distorts them. Bel things she hears something about the way ahead.

"You are all out of your minds." Randall gives Lix a hard stare. "No one would take us seriously. It's bad enough that we have a female producer." Bel should be used by now but she's not. How could she ever be? There are a lot of people in the country that doesn't think a woman could run a show like the Hour. That somehow it's only luck that she's gotten this far. She can feel Freddie's hand on the small of her back. He might not be able to talk but sometimes his presence is more comforting than anything anyone could ever say.

"I'm sure Hector could do it on his own." There's a collective sigh from the group. Hector isn't even present at this moment, much like yesterday, "If not, I'm sure Mr Wanegrow could step in." This earns him a hard glare from Lix and a hoarse chuckle from Freddie. Bel on the other hand is filled with dread at the very idea.

"You know I'm best suited for this. I will present and Freddie here will produce."

"My no is final miss Rowley." He straightens his tie, a sign that he's about to leave. Bel thinks she can here Lix muttering, something about how much worth his word is, she's not sure she understands.

"We have an interesting piece on the role of the working woman." She forces herself not to sound so desperate. "If you think that would be less controversial than me presenting the actual news." She can almost feel how the situation is slipping away from her.

"My suggestion is that Mr Lyon goes home, takes a couple of whiskeys and comes back tomorrow with a voice that we can actually use." Randall looks her in the eyes, like he's evaluating her. "If not, then we might discuss this further. For now this conversation is over." He heads out of the office followed by Lix evaluation of him. "You're an old fashioned man Randall."

Bel keeps her head high. Hopefully that would be the case. She's not sure their show can afford to break another barrier so soon. She feels Freddie's hand on her shoulder, he smiles at her and winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my variant of the theme but they wouldn't cooperate.
> 
> Sorry about the formatting. Done on a business trip on my phone.


	15. In a different clothing style (before)

“I’m not doing this Moneypenny.” They’re in her tiny flat with Freddie in front of the mirror, his expression growing ever more sceptical by the minute.

“Don’t be silly James. You're looking dapper as usual.” It really does suite him, the wide trouser, the wide lapels on the jacket, the vest and the fedora. “We’ll melt right in.” Bel is standing beside him adjusting her headband and retouching her make-up. The straight dress she wears doesn’t hug her curves as she’s used to. Not that she minds, it’s quite a freeing feel. It’s clear to her now how it could have been such a popular tool of liberation.

“It’s idiotic and I look so short.” He turns his side to the mirror, assessing his profile. She giggles, not out of malice but because of the puppy eyed look and pouting lips he gives her. It might be true that he looks a bit on the short side but he’s the spitting image of a male flapper.

“Not that you would know anything about looking idiotic Monyepenny. Lavished as you are.” He flashes a grin through the mirror and she puts her hand on his shoulder. “I on the other hand will not show my self outside in this hat.” It’s impossible to be immune to his ways so she does what she usually does, she smiles and shakes her head.

“Are you vain Freddie? So unlike you.” It was one of the best things about him. That he was humble, had humour and none of that nonsense vanity a lot of other men kept close to their hearts.

“I’d be much more comfortable in a cap. You know I wouldn’t have been one to wear this.” She removes his hat and ruffles his hair. It’s a good feeling, running her hands through his black curls.

“You had the choice of wearing cap and knickers but you declined.” This is met with something that can only be described as a glare. “It’s all or nothing Freddie, you wear the suit, you wear the hat. You choose the cap, then it’s knickers. No one in the twenties would go in a cap and a suit.” It was another time back then, even if she sometimes suspected that it hadn’t changed all that much.

“Remind me Moneypenny. Why are we doing this again?”

“They’re friends of mine.” He interrupts her with a laugh, shakes his head and reclaims his hat. It’s a pity that it covers almost all of his hair.

“They’re not your friends. You've never talked about them. I’ve never met them and from what I can tell you don’t even know all of their names.” The looks he sports is nothing short of triumphant.

“It’s a good story. The opening of a new jazz club in a way that would make the roaring twenties proud.” It’s true that she hadn’t really fought to get this assignment. Then again, she hadn’t protested all that much either, knowing she could trick Freddie into going, his comments could make even the dullest party a success.

“If this is what is considered a good story I might just change career.” A resigned sigh coming from his lips.

“I know you James, this is not about how you have to dress. This about the crowd.”

“Well, they are tedious.” He smiles and leans back. His shoulders against her chest. She wraps her arms around him. “I didn’t get into writing to report on the doings of the upper class.” The smile grows in to one of those warm ones that lights up his whole being. “I did it to change the world.”

“It’s only this one time James.” Verda always advised her to marry rich. If that failed, marry someone who one day would be rich. She wasn’t Verda, she’d rather have someone like Freddie. A smart man with a conscience. “We can change the world next time.”


	16. During their morning ritual(s) (after)

It would be impossible for her not to notice Freddie when he comes in to the office, his desk directly in her line of sight. Today, like every day, Bel’s already there when he arrives. There’s no need for her to look up anymore, she knows his movements by heart, they’re the same every morning. If he wears a coat he will hang it up before he sits down at the desk to fiddle with the papers from yesterday. That’s the first time he’ll glance up at her. If she is busy he’ll go and get himself a cup of coffee, if she’s not he’ll ask her if she wants one too.

When he gets back he’ll check the mail and if he leans back a little bit he can make her out from there as well. If she’s still occupied he’ll go around talking to the rest of the staff, updating himself, a constant eye in her direction. Today she pretends like she hasn’t seen him, because if she does that long enough he will try to get her attention. This morning it includes going up to her window and making funny faces at her until she laughs and waves him in.

“Good morning Moneypenny. Anything good for me this beautiful day?” He looks tired, Camille must be keeping him up at night. It seems to Bel like each passing day puts increasing weight on him. She doesn’t like to speculate but it does seem like the situation at home is growing more and more agitating.

“What is this James? Waiting for me to hand you a story?” She flashes him a smile, he’s not the only one who notices and who knows when to leave it be. “Here I thought we hired you for your imagination and your skills in reporting.” His smile widens, he never could deal well with flattery.

“And my pretty face, you must not forget about the pretty face.” It’s funny how he always have an excuse to go into her office. Every morning he comes, as soon as he feel that he can, and yet he seems to feel the need for excuses to do it. Making up one apparent pretext after another.

“You know that was Mr Browns doing, not mine.” She rearranges the paper on her desk. Since that night she finds it hard to look at him. His lips reminds her of drunken kisses and her body still knows where he put his hands, even if that sensation lessens by each passing day.

“Apparently Mr Brown is a great judge of not only character but also style.” They haven’t talked about what happened which feels weird. Not only because it actually happened but even more because they used to talk about everything. There were never any taboos in their relationship and now it feels like every day there’s another subject, another thing, that’s out of line, getting stowed away in the big wedge this life is driving between them.

“Don’t you have work to do Freddie?” She musters a smile. “I know I do, I have to prepare for a meeting. BBC is slashing the spending once again and I can’t produce on an even slimmer budget.” It won’t be her bringing it up, she’s not ready. Not ready for him to laugh it off, for it to be a mistake. Not ready for him to tell her one of the thousand reasons why it was just that. An utterly stupid mistake.

“My pretty face will be in the editing room ‘til lunch if you would require it.” He makes a mock bow before he leaves.

If it’s possible she’s even less ready for the other alternative, that it wasn’t just some drunken delusion of his. What then? He has a wife with no income, in a foreign country, how could he leave her? What if he did the right thing, stood by her side? Would they forever know but never do anything?

She puts her glasses down on her desk, massaging her temples. Was that even an option if it came to that, not being together? Freddie had always been so outspoken against cheating, he was so much better than that. So what if that was the outcome, what would that make her? The destroyer of the only decent man in this world? She had so many more scenarios in her head, nearly none of them ended without anyone getting hurt. She was not ready to discover which one was true.


	17. Spooning (before)

The day Freddie's dad passed away Bel had dropped everything and gone to him. She’d spent the days helping him through the numbness, arranging the funeral, sorting through the things left behind. Freddie’d grown paler and more silent so she’d cooked for him, which was extraordinary, and talked to keep him company.

She’d always liked his father, he’d been a sweet man, constantly trying to get them together. _Don’t you think he’s funny?_ Telling her what a wonderful man his son was, teasing her with childhood memories Freddie would rather forget. Even in his later days he’d always lightened up when he’d seen her, asking her questions she didn’t mind answering again and again. She only wish she’d known him longer before his memory hazed.

Freddie had kept it all inside, putting on a brave face until the funeral. Now that it was over he’d let it all go to pieces. She’d been there for him as he cried over the loss and the memories that would only grow fewer. Sitting on his bed she caresses his hair and he leans against her shoulder. It’s been an exhausting week for him. For her too. She’s glad that they’ll be able to move forward now. His sobbing eventually dies down so she wraps a blanket around him and goes to make tea.

When she comes back he’s lying down, facing the wall. She puts the tea down and joins him under the blanket, holding him in a close embrace, his back against the front of her black suit. She wants to whisper that everything will be all right, she can’t, not even sure that it’s true. They lie there, exhausted, until the day turns dark.

“Bel.” When he finally speaks to her his voice is coarse. “I think I should go away for a while.” His hand is warm against hers but she can feel a chill seeping through her body, the parts of her the dread in her chest hasn’t paralysed.

“Why?” It’s a faint sound that comes out of her mouth and it’s at first met by silence. She’s almost afraid to breath, of doing anything that’s a sign of time passing. Eventually he tells her.

“I’ve got no job, no family, nothing that keeps me here.” Bel swallows the pain that’s creeping up in her throat. She hates the reason in his voice, like he’s given it a lot of thought.

“Come with me.” He turns around to face her, his head inches from hers. “We can go anywhere. Nothing in the world could stop us.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that she hasn’t seen for weeks. “Don’t you have anywhere you’d want to go? Havana, Acapulco, San Francisco? We could visit all those places we’ve always talked about. Didn’t you say only last week that you would love to see New York? We could do it all Moneypenny. You, me and the world at our feet.” That warm smile of his, not even that can sooth the turmoil inside of her.

“I can’t… I can’t leave.” She bites her lip, wanting to take back her words, even more, wanting him to take back his. “I still have a job here Freddie.”

“You and me, we could write stories from around the globe. James and Moneypenny, the travelling duo.” The way he looks at her, his eyes pleading. “You won’t need your old job. We’ll be famous!” He must know it. How women just don’t get as far as she has come.

“This is my chance Freddie. If I leave I will never be able to come back.” He takes her hand between his, looking into her eyes, serious.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you Moneypenny. Please come.” And because his blue eyes are so pretty and because she can’t bare the thought of being without him she says that she’ll think about it. It pleases him but only hurts her more because she knows that in the end, it’s impossible for her to go.


	18. Doing something together (before)

“You won’t be driving Freddie, I will.” She tries to shoo him away from the drivers door.

“Moneypenny, you know how female drivers are.” Standing with his back to the door he’s blocking it from her, stepping in her way when she tries to get around him.

“Is that why I’ve got a license and you don’t?” She pokes her finger in his shoulder, the tweed jacket rough to the touch. He, as well as her, has dressed up for this cold January night.

“I’m sure he was taken by your beauty and not your driving.” A blush is spreading over her cheeks even if she tries her best to stop it. His smile widens slightly, one of his many tells, he’s noticed but refrains from comment.

“If you want me to continue helping with your license you will now step out of the way.” For once he does what she tells him and gets in on the passenger seat. They chatter endlessly during the drive, the radio only providing some background noises the few seconds that are otherwise left silent. As they leave London the night grows darker and darker until they reach their destination.

It’s with a sudden and respectful silence that they both step out of the car, taking a blanket each with them, lying down on the grass, close, gazing up at the star lit sky. They’re lucky for it to be such a clear night. He points out some of the signs to her and she tells him the old Greek stories tied to them. Eventually they can see the dark shape falling over the moon. She can feel him reach for her hand when half of the moon has gone.

“Why, your hands are freezing Moneypenny.” Letting the moon away from his gaze he turns to her.

“You see James, someone was in too much of a hurry to let me get my gloves.” He’d been so excited about this and she must admit, it is a wonderful experience. He almost giggles as he takes her hands and puts them under his jacket. She moves closer and puts her head on his shoulder, they lie like that until the moon is once again it’s usual shape and colour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dealing with a family illness at the moment so posting might be a bit more irregular from now on.


	19. In formal wear (before)

“I don’t think you should go Moneypenny.” Freddie uses his most sceptical look, slightly undermined by the quirk of his lips. “It’s not good for you, mixing like that.”

“Why shouldn’t I go? Just because you hate it?” Bel gives him a smile and focuses her attention on the long Burgundy dress she’s wearing, evening out the crinkles. It’s not a new dress, it’s what her salary could get her, hopefully it’s still nice enough to make her fit in.

“It’s not that I hate it. It’s just that I don’t see the point of it.” Freddie shrugs and lights up a cigarette. “But you.” Exhaling the smoke in a sigh. “You do look incredible tonight Moneypenny.” She can’t help but laugh at his silliness and takes the cigarette from him, drawing a deep breath before she gives it back.

“What is this James? Don’t I always look nice?” The teasing is their own language, their own terms of endearment. It’s been going on for so long that she’s not sure if she can express it in any other way. Would the balance shift, she’d be at loss for words.

“You always look nice but this is extraordinary.” He gestures towards her whole being with his hand, cigarette between the fingers. “They don’t deserve you. I hope you know that.”

“It’s one dinner Freddie. I’m not signing away my soul.” There’s a gold necklace lying on the table by the sofa, she takes it in her hand and brings it up to the neck.

“No.” Freddie takes a step closer. “Not that one.” He examines her dress closely. “You should use that silver one you have. The one with the stone.” It’s a quick smile he flashes her as he heads for the bedroom. She puts the necklace back, sometimes she thinks he puts as much thought into her clothes as she does. Not true of course, he just has an incredible eye for detail. Details, connections, the heart of a problem, his ability to observe is what makes him such a great journalist.

The cold silver against her chest and neck makes her shiver slightly, a smile spreading over her lips as she hears the lock shut with a small click. He was right of course, the blue complemented the dress nicely.

“You could still come you know.” She puts her hand over his and turns around. “We could drink ourself silly and dance the night away.” There’s a smile in his eyes followed by a silent laugh and a shake of his head.

“I don’t have the clothes and I don’t have the will. You know that.” He removes his hand from her shoulder, hers landing in it’s place.

“You could borrow something surely, and maybe pretend to have a bit of fun?” It doesn’t seem to be one of those nights where he’s willing to be coerced into anything she suggests.

“There’s already an awful lot of pretending around you Moneypenny.” He straightens her necklace, not that it was at all needed. She can only shake her head, it’s the nature of their relationship and he knows it.

“I’ll take that as a no.”


	20. Dancing (after)

Sissy dips her head into Bel's office, a wide smile on her red lips.

“Miss, aren’t you joining the celebrations?” Bel looks up at the cute girl, dressed in green with the honest eyes of someone equally naive and young.

“I’m sorry.” Taking her glasses off she rubs her temples. It’s been a long day and she hasn’t really had time to give the staff any thought. “What celebrations?”

“Don’t you know Miss? Issac has sold his first play.” Bel can’t help but smile. Isaac's career had been nothing short of a struggle in the shadow of men that were both taller and more outwards than he was. She’d often taunted him but was now genuinely glad to see that his hard struggle had paid off.

They’re all inside Lix's office who’s sitting behind the desk which Hector and Freddie are leaning on. Randall is in one of the chairs while Isaac is standing in the middle, looking both happy and uncomfortable. When Bel and Sissy comes in Lix raises her glass.

“A toast to the burgeoning success of our boy.” She takes a large sip of the scotch. “May you fare as well in your personal life as the success your night time play will give you.” Bel can see a small quirk of Randall's lips as he takes a sip.

“Well I for one is happy for you Mr Wengrow.” Hector raises his glass. “I’m sure it’s a great play.” There’s a demeaning cough from Freddie.

“Considering you can’t tell a play from a poem I’m sure Isaac is very flattered by your praise.” Even if she doesn’t want to encourage him Bel can hardly keep her face straight, the look flashing over Hectors face is too much.

“Now now boys, stay down, we’re here to celebrate.” Lix pours herself the last scotch in the bottle and opens another one.

“Lix is right.” Freddie leaves Hector at the desk and heads for the shelf. “We need some music, and dance!” Isaac looks increasingly petrified as Ella's voice starts spreading through the room, he only manages to weakly mumble something about how he doesn’t dance.

“Nonsense, everybody dances.” Freddie gives him a wide small as he starts moving his feet and body. “And if you don’t you really should learn. Lix, can you help our dear friend out?”

“I’m neither young enough nor pretty enough to teach him.” She lights up a cigarette. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Fine.” Freddie grabs hold of Bel's wrist and before she knows it he’s pressed against her. If she needed a reminder of that late night this would do. Not that she does, the memory still haunts her every day. She swallows hard and focuses her attention on the short couple next to them.

“Now Isaac, you take Sissy like this and I’ll teach you to dance.” The wide distance Isaac holds between Sissy and himself only shows how uncomfortable he is with this turn of events. Bel knows that she shouldn’t but she can’t help herself, a small laugh bubbles up from her throat.

“It’s simple. One, two, three four. One, two, three four.” Freddie counts their steps as he steers Bel around the small office. It’s not the first time they’ve danced together and even if it’s been months she still knows how to respond to his familiar motions.

“I don’t know Mr Lyon.” Isaac adjusts his collar, considerably flustered. “It looks very hard.”

“It’s really simple actually.” Sissy brings him closer, guiding him with her soft voice. “Just follow me, Sey and I do this a lot.” Isaac looks in equal measures pleased, distressed and uncomfortable but at least he’s concentrating on his and Sissy's feet.

Bel's attention drifts and suddenly she’s once again all too aware about how tight Freddie's arm is around her back, his rough cheek against hers. The familiar smell of his skin stirs up the emotions inside of her, it used to make her feel so comfortable and now it makes her heart heavy.

“Why are you never like this anymore, James?” He looks at her with a wide smile, his body shifting to the Duke Ellington tunes. “I am now, Moneypenny.” He skilfully navigates them across the floor, ignoring Hectors attempt to interrupt.

“You know what I mean.” Her comment is met by silence as he draws her closer. Hoping that the music drowns her comment she leans against him and whispers silently. “I miss you.” From the shift in his body she can tell that he’s heard her. She wants desperately to talk to him. There must be a way out of this that doesn’t mean she has to stop talking to him.

“Looking good Issac.” Freddie releases her and she grabs the glass from Lix's outstretched hand, wishing that woman would stop being so all knowing. Freddie continues to dance with Sissy, a happy grin on his face. If Bel can forget the last couple of months she can look at him without hurting. It’s when he turns his blue eyes towards her and she can see the sadness in them that it becomes almost unbearable. Ella's light voice whispers the words she wish weren’t true. _Couldn’t bear it without you, don’t get around much anymore._


	21. Cooking/baking (before)

Bel stirs the sugar down into the newly obtained cup of lukewarm coffee. It was a compromise. If there was any coffee left in the cantina at this hour it was always far from warm but then it was a quiet haven at this hour. A place to take a couple of calm breaths before she had to write the rest of that article.

“Are you hiding Moneypenny?” Freddie’s standing in the doorway, his coat hanging over his arm.

“Do I look like I’m hiding?” Taking another sip off coffee she smiles at him.

“No.” He concedes as he walks over to her. “Not really.” He hangs the coat over the opposite chair. Sitting down in front of her he puts his chin in his hand, studying her carefully. “You must have something better to do than working this late. Don’t you have a line of tedious bureaucrats just waiting to sweep you off your feet with theatre and dinner?” It’s said in the light hearted manner of a joke but she can see something straining around his eyes.

“Not tonight James. Tonight I’m on my own.” If she doesn’t radiate an aura of tiredness it would be a miracle. The story she’s writing is working against her and not with her. Still there’s enough in it that it should be a great article if she could only find a way to finish it.

“Then let’s have dinner. You and I. You know it’s bound to happened. The detective always gets the pretty girl at the end.” The smile he gives her is wide and touches his blue eyes, making them even more radiant. She wishes she could find someone as good as him but somehow there’s always something missing in the men she meets, always apparent after a couple of months.

“I have work to do. You know that.” Taking another sip of the now cold coffee she can hear her stomach rumble. She should have gone out for those chips earlier.

“But you are hungry Moneypenny. Don’t try to fool me. You always tell me not to work on an empty stomach. If you won’t go out with me I will make you something here.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. She find herself incapable of protest, only a small sigh accompanying the shake of her head. It’s clear that he takes it as encouragement as he heads behind the empty counters at the cantina.

“I’m fairly sure that what you're doing is not allowed.” Her admonition is somewhat diminished by the small giggle that escapes her.

He pops his head up behind the counter. “Wouldn’t be as fun if it was, now would it?” The coffee is now as cold as it will get which really hasn’t improved the taste. She pushes the cup away, considering to sneak off while he’s busy, to do the work she so desperately needs done. 

When he comes back he offers her a sandwich, some bleak looking vegetables and a couple of cold chips. She politely accepts them, he looks way too satisfied with himself for her to deny him that small happiness. She takes a couple of bites from the sandwich which is kind of dry and some vegetables which aren’t all that bad. It takes the rest of the coffee to get it down. 

“I don’t recommend you serving this to anyone James. Not if you wish them well.” He laugh a little at her remark and shakes his head 

“It can’t be that bad.” When he takes a bite of the sandwich he can’t muster any of the politeness she’s shown, he spits it out into his hand. “You should really get better friends Moneypenny. Someone who could make you a proper meal for starters.”


	22. In battle, side-by-side (after)

“If you think we’re going to be censured for their convenience!” It was impossible for Bel to express the relief she felt at not have to take this fight alone. To have her constant companion by her side. Like it used to be when everything was easy, and if not easy then at least somewhat predictable. The delicate balance in their relationship might be thrown but in this they could still unite.

“We simply cannot afford to push every issue Miss Rowley.” Randall is sitting behind his desk. Completely still. His hands folded in his lap. At least she has a chance of reading him when he's fiddling with the things on his desk. His stern eyes are fixed on Bel, relentless as only he can be, and from time to time they drift towards Freddie.

It had been so hard, all those months without him. Disregarding how lonely she’d felt, how desperately she’d wanted him to come back. She’d also had to fight all those fights alone, on what little energy she’d had left after dealing with everything else.

“Don’t tell me that this is not worth pursuing.” She could see the fire burning inside of her reflected in Freddie's eyes, the agitation she felt mirrored in his body language. Nothing could beat them when they were like this. The unbreakable two. Somehow it was easier to breath with him around. It cleared her mind, strengthened her resolve.

“Worth pursuing and worth pushing are two very different things Mr. Lyon.” The editor in chief pushes himself up from the chair. “I trust that you will find another way to present the issue. Now good day.” Bel takes another deep breath, a step towards him, ready to continue fighting but Randall is already out the door. Instead she leans back on the editors desk, with a frustrated sigh irritatedly exclaiming. “Perfect! Now what?” Bringing the hand to her forehead she tips her head back.

“Now we’ll find a way to tell the story, Moneypenny.” Freddie's voice is soft. The fire is gone, replaced by his normal stubborn ways. He smiles as he comes over to her placing himself close by her, looking into her eyes. “We’ve done it before.” She can feel the shift in her when he’s standing close. “We can do it again.” At a distance, in keeping herself busy, she can ignore it but when they’re close together and the silence stretches out she can feel her body pull in an different direction than is advisable.

She find herself wanting to say it to him. All those things he wrote to her, those precious lines, scaring her more than anything she’s ever felt in her life. She’d tried her best to forget, there was no use remembering it now, but there was still something inside of her that wouldn’t let it go. A small hope that it was after all possible, and that with him, she wouldn’t have to choose. It was that part that kept his letters in her drawer, running the fingers over his handwriting from time to time.

“Of course James.” She pushes those thoughts away, focusing on the task hand. The necessity of work has turned out to be a relieving distraction, occupying her mind with thoughts that doesn’t hurt to think. “There’s always another way.”


	23. Arguing (after)

Bel’s standing in front of the chalk board, reviewing the stories they’re considering for this week, when Freddie comes in to her office. Too many of them are Isaacs filler stories, the everyday life of the London public, they needed something bigger. Something fresher. That tick.

“We can do better than that.” His remark makes her smile. ”The world has surely not stopped being interesting.” Coming up to examine the board he stops at her side, close, his shoulder an inch from hers.

“Four more days. I’m sure we’ll manage.” The tone of her voice is teasing and she can see the curl of his lips when he turns his head towards hers.

“Of course Moneypenny, you wouldn’t put out anything less than perfect.” As usual his flattery places itself like a warm blanket around her heart. That boy. When she looks closer there’s a surge of worry in her chest. Despite of the show he puts on, standing this close to him makes it apparent how tired he looks. He’s wearing himself thin. Tilting her head she tries to mask her concern.

“How’s Camille? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Freddie directs his gaze to the writing, away from her eyes.

“You don’t have to ask about her.” His voice is quiet and flat, she doesn’t know why the tone hurts her but it does. The silence stretches out between them and she can feel the frustration building. It never used to be like this, this barrier between them.

“I‘m only trying to be nice Freddie. Why are you shutting me out?” Struggling not to sound accusing she puts her hand on his shoulder, wanting him to face her again.

“Am I shutting you out?” He shakes her hand off and when he for a moment turns his blue eyes are hard. “You haven’t told me anything lately. Nothing. I hear from Isaac how you’re doing. From Isaac!” It’s true that she’s distanced herself from him, but only out of necessity, being close to him reminded her of all that they weren’t anymore.

“You know why! We both know that you’re not stupid, so don’t pretend to be.” It hurts her that he doesn’t respond, that he doesn’t look at her. Like he’d ever needed her to tell him how she felt. “If it was a mistake I’m fine with that. I really am. I just don’t want things to change between us. I don’t want us to change.” She doesn’t scream at him, doesn’t force him to acknowledge what’s happened. Instead she bites her lip, swallowing the frustration when he doesn’t respond. “Fine. Let’s not talk about it then. Pretend it never happened but don’t get mad at me when I try to care.” Her voice isn’t as steady as she’d wish. “Why do you make it so hard! Why won’t you let me care?” She can feel the tears rising in her eyes, quickly she blinks them away. “I’m sorry that you and Camille argue, I hate for you to be unhappy, but it can’t be my fault so don’t treat me like this.”

The quite grows once again. It’s a deep breath he takes before he finally faces her again, suddenly tired. His blue eyes are glimmering from the water in them “Yes.” The look in his eyes is like a stab in her heart, his words another. “Yes it is. In a way. Because we argue about you.” She doesn’t want to hear it. He’d made his choices, and she had done hers. It already hurt so much what she could have done but didn’t, and now this. “Not always. We argue about a lot of things but one of them is you. She says that I only care about you. I tell her that of course it’s not true, that there’s nothing between us. Sometimes I even manages to convince myself.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t raise his voice, he just looks at her.

“What am I supposed to do?” Her voice’s unsteady, unsure. “She’s your wife Freddie. You married her. You brought her here. I didn’t.” What he’s saying makes her head spin. She wants to touch him but doesn’t. When his gaze grows harder she wants to look away but can’t.

“No you didn’t.” There’s both sadness and frustration in his eyes. “You didn’t do anything.” Maybe it is because it’s true that it hurts so much. That this change between them might be her fault. She doesn’t know if she should scream or throw her arms around him, so she does neither. It only takes a couple of heartbeats before she walks away. Her heart heavy. Unable to face him any longer.


	24. Making up afterwards (after)

Bel’s lights up one of her cigarettes, the flare from the lighter makes shadows dance around the dark. The film room is one of her secrets, coming here at this hour always ensured her some quiet. A place to contemplate, to get some time alone. That stupid boy, sometimes she hated him almost as much as she hated herself. Desperately she tries to calm that intense feeling inside of her that burns with frustration and desire. Longing for that time when things were easier and she knew where she had him, knew that as long as nothing changed they would be together forever.

Like most of her secrets he knows this one, she can feel his presence before he says anything, even before she discovers his shadow. She can feel herself tense up, already? Somehow she thought she’d get some time to collect herself.

“Do you remember that first time you convinced them to hire me?” His voice is quiet. “How hard you fought for me?” There’s a sigh escaping him that’s bordering on a laugh. “I couldn’t believe it. That someone would fight so hard for me.” A couple of steps and he’s by her side. “You believed in me so much. I’m so grateful, I really am.” He sits down beside her, she can feel the warmth from his shoulder. “This is really hard for me Bel.”

“You think it’s not hard for me?” She regrets the words the instant they leaves her lips. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that. I don’t want to shut you out...” He trails off and she finds herself taking his hand. “It’s all falling apart Moneypenny. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. I just…” She sighs. “Don’t you wish that things were like they used to be? Before all of this? Wasn’t it easier then?”

"No. I'm sorry Bel." He puts his hand over hers, she can barely make him out in the darkness, only a silhouette lighted by the doorway behind him. "I don't want to go back to the way things were.” Her heart sinks rapidly and she puts out her cigarette on the closest shelf. “And I won't make excuses for kissing you. It wasn't a mistake and I refuse to regret it."

"I can't do this Freddie.” Why did she have to be so emotional? He’d always had that effect on her, a direct link to her that no one else ever had. “I've had relationships without a future before. I can't. Not with you." She can feel his slender fingers on her cheek, his thumb drying that one treacherous tear that so tellingly runs down her cheek. “I can't imagine one where I have to share you.” 

“We can.” He leans closer and the world disappears when he presses his soft lips against hers, her head nothing but a dizzy mess. She can feel her hand running through his hair, down his neck, vaguely aware of the surroundings but only really conscious about his lips against hers, his skin against her touch. He pulls her closer and like the last time she can’t help herself but to yield to the desire. This time, she tells herself, this time is different. Only, not different enough. Eventually she pulls away, her hand still on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry Freddie. We’re better than this.” The darkness around them is a relief, she doesn’t want to see the look in his eyes, doesn’t want him to see hers.

"We can do this Bel.” His voice is quiet, not as steady as she’s used to. “I think it’s over. She talks about leaving me and I can't even find the words to ask her to stay because...” She can feel his hand on hers, twining their fingers together. “Because she's right Bel, she says I care about you more and I do. If we want to there can be a future for us." He kisses her palm and it sends a shiver through her. It would be so easy now, so easy to get what she wanted but she wants to make sure. Make sure that this won’t break, she couldn’t bare it if it didn’t last.

“That’s not enough Freddie. I’m sorry.” She pulls her hand away from his. “I can’t be your mistress, I just can’t.” She'd already come close to ruining her career for a married man once, even is this was Freddie, she was not sure how forgiving people would be this time. 

"It wouldn't be like that Bel." His voice is close to desperate, as shaken as hers is when she speaks. 

"We're still young James, there might still be a future for us." Leaning her forehead against his, her hand on the nape of his neck, she can feel the rush of a pulse, not sure if it's his or hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fandom doesn't need more angst. I'm sorry, it'll get better.


	25. Gazing into each others eyes (after)

If there was one thing Bel wishes she was better at, it was letting go. Caring had always been an asset of hers, a way for her to tell stories with a compassion that engaged the viewer. It wasn't only thanks to Freddie but the truth is that it was impossible to be around him for a longer period of time without starting to care about the world, the passion he carried was contagious. In some ways he had made her a better person, and she had done the same for him, but right now she wished that she could let go of the past, of everything that weighed her down, of hope.

They’re sitting around the table of the news room after yet another well executed show. Hector was shining, as was Freddie, not that he’ll admit it. That boy was always quick to highlight himself when it didn’t matter, as soon as it did he never said a word. Hector’s talking about the bright and shining future in store for him if he’ll leave the BBC. She’ll miss him if he does but he deserves it. She still likes him, he is after all a good man and a noble one at that.

Freddie’s sitting across of her, next to Isaac, mocking Hector as is his constant habit. Bel wants to tell him to stop, it really does get tiresome after a while, but when she meets his eyes she looses the words to express herself. Even at that distance she can see how brightly blue they shine, she can see the sadness in them, the hope, the tired days and nights. His gaze creeps in under her skin, makes her flustered, all too aware of the distance between them.

When she breaks away from his eyes she realises that Hector’s stopped talking. Looking at her he gives her one those stupidly happy grins, filled with meaning. She wants to tell him that it’s not like that, but he wouldn’t understand. Not that he wouldn’t comprehend the situation but he would have no understanding of why she lets it control her. For all his upbringing he was not one to respects the rules of desire.

Slightly uneasy she makes her excuses, telling them both how wonderful they were tonight and goes over to Lix who’s standing at the farther end of the room engulfed in her correspondence. She doesn’t even look up when Bel comes over, just waves her cigarette in the direction of the boys.

“He really owes me, that one.” She takes a deep breath of smoke, the banter of the men drowns out their quiet talk.

“Hector?” Bel eyes the boys with a sceptical look. “Why?”

“For everything.“ The other women smiles. “But I wasn’t talking about Hector. It’s that wonderful boy of ours, he’s done it again.” Sighing she puts her letters away. “This is the second translator I’ve lost because of him. I really need those Algerian documents translated.” Shaking her head the older woman takes a gulp of whiskey. “Does he think I can just send for another one? It’s hard to find someone who can both translate and correspond in both languages.” Bel finds it hard to even ask the question burning inside of her.

“Camille?” The name sounds unfamiliar in her mouth, her voice coarse, she can’t take her eyes away from Freddie now. Hasn’t she noticed a change in him? Over the last couple of days? Doesn’t he seem more at ease?

“Not anymore. She had an imminent desire to go elsewhere, no matter how much I need her.” Lix sounds fairly irritated. “As if Kish wasn’t enough in the middle of a crisis.” She puts the cigarette out. “He owes me, that boy.”

“Oh.” That small glimmer of hope Bel has tried her best to pay no attention to is now growing, ever so slowly, in strength. She tries to resist it, there’s already been enough disappointment for a lifetime.

“Darling. Is that all? Oh? You can’t pretend that this is not what you want. You are both fairly bad at hiding it.” Bel directs her eyes away, words falling away from her in a mumble. Almost tripping over themselves.

“I don’t… Not that easy… Should wait.” There’s an impatient twist of Lix's lips as she shakes her head.

“I hope you’re joking honey. Wait? Worked the last time, did it?”

“What if she comes back?” Her voice is so quite now, the words not even directed at Lix anymore.

“What if he doesn’t. Look at him, the world at his feet.” When Bel doesn’t reply Lix continues. “It’s your choice of course. It’s just that I thought you’d be tired of running. It definitely seems like he is.”


	26. Getting married (before)

It had been Freddie who'd insisted that they’d go out and celebrate with dinner. It was the first longer piece of hers that'd ever seen print and the sight of it in the paper had moved her in ways she couldn’t explain. Well, not to anyone but him. He knew the feeling of seeing your name in black ink on the the grayish paper, knowing that what you’d written was out there for the world to see, that it might even change it.

The restaurant was fancier than she was used to but he’d insisted and they’d both dressed for the occasion, looking more like professionals than aspiring young journalists.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, welcome.” Freddie has her arm hooked in his, keeping it tightly to his side, a big and warm smile on his face. As the host leads them to their table Bel leans closer to him, whispering in his ear.

“I can’t believe you Freddie, you told them we were married?” Her harsh voice does nothing to diminish his smile as he turns his head towards her.

“Their assumption, not mine Moneypenny.” The voice he uses is innocent but she’s known him long enough to see how amusing he finds it. As they sit down at the table she takes the first opportunity she can to glare at him.

“You didn’t correct him.” She doesn’t kick him under the table, hoping that the thin line gracing her lips is enough to make him realise what she thinks. It wouldn’t do, making a big scene in a restaurant like this.

“Why would I? Who wouldn’t want to be associated with such a reasonably looking woman as yourself?” She rolls her eyes and lets the matter drop, he was truly impossible when he wanted.

They both take their time selecting what they want from the menu, it makes her oddly happy how much he’s grown over the last years. When she met him he would only order what he knew, now he’s no longer afraid to plunge into the unknown. That young and insecure boy was growing quickly.

The night continues with light conversation, good food and a lot of laughter. After the meal, sitting with the glass in her hand, she feels that it’s impossible to let the matter rest any longer, it’s too close to her heart.

“I just hate that we have to choose. I hate that our society is not ready for a women to do more than one thing. Or ready for women at all.” With an irritated sigh she empties her glass. “Either you have a career and you don’t marry, or you do marry but let your career go.” It’s with frustration she scours the happy couples around them, most of the women surely not working, relying on their men to take them out. “I refuse to choose. I’ll do what I want, and that’s that.” She puts down the glass with a bit more force than she intended.

“You’ve already chosen Bel.” He looks at her earnestly. “And your career will be most successful, I’m sure.” He drags a breath of smoke from the cigarette he’s holding. “Not that I mind. I don’t need us to marry.” Flashing her a smile she can see his eyes glimmer. “As long as we’re having a splendid life together I don’t care about that.” She can’t help but to laugh and he puts on one of his mock earnest looks. “Just remember that you’re the one who has to explain to the children why their parents are living in sin.”

“You know how I feel about children Freddie.” With a click the lighter produces a flame to which she puts her cigarette, drawing a deep breath of smoke to get it started.

“Yes I know, two. One boy and one girl.”

“No children.” They’ve done this before. Negotiated their common future like it’s one of those unavoidable things, just waiting to happen. They split the bill and when he helps her put her coat on he tells her in a silent voice. “If you do change your mind I’ll marry you.”

There’s nothing malign about the smile she gives him, it truly warms her heart to know that he’s there for her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”


	27. On one of their birthdays (after)

They’re all sitting around the table, beer in hand, as is their tradition when a birthday occurs in the team. This time it’s Bel Rowley who got the obligatory cake in the newsroom, the well wishes and the the honour of drinking for free. An hour has passed and the table is already filled with glasses and cigarette stubs. The loud chatter only momentarily quiets down when Freddie stands up, glass in hand

“Friends, fellow newsmen, foes and allies. I would like to propose a toast this very fine night.” He directs a smile at Bel before he raises his glass towards the rest of the room. “A toast to our wonderful and brilliant producer who is now one year older, almost ancient.” He holds up his hand to stop the interrupting coughs around him. “One year wiser. One year stronger. One year braver.” The smile is spreading wide on his lips. “One year brillianter. A toast to another year with the marvellous Miss Rowley to guide us.” Bel can feel a blush creeping over her cheeks. Lix, more present in the moment, puts her hand on Freddie's arm, mumbling something about making up words.

“You’ve had quite enough sweetheart, now sit down.” The dark haired boy doesn’t even shake his head, he just continues his pompous ways.

“Just enough to bring you to tears with my heartfelt and emotional speech.” Opening his mouth, taking a deep breath, he looks like he’s about to carry on, in the end he only drains his glass. “No. I think that was all.” He drops down between her and Lix, smiling proudly.

“Darling, you don’t look one day older than you did yesterday.” Lix leans closer to Bel. “Don’t listen to him. Let’s us more experienced women worry about being ancient.”

Like most other birthdays one half of the team continues to another hotspot, to dance. As the birthday girl Bel gets paired up with everyone. Her favourite boys are so different, yet so pleasing to dance with. Hector with his firm grip and manners, Freddie with his impulses and witty remarks, even Issac seems to have learnt one thing and another. Before the night is too late she makes a valiant effort to sneak off, telling no one. Yet she finds Freddie at her side as she searches for her coat.

“Stay, Moneypenny, the night is still young.” When he puts his hand on her arm she can feel a pleasant shiver run through her body, the same she enjoyed when dancing with him, she shakes her head.

“Not tonight Freddie. It’s been an exhausting week.” She smiles, trying to tell him that it’s out of her hand, that she’s just to tired.

“Then I’m going with you.” It doesn’t take him long to find her coat as well as his own.

“Are you now?” It’s impossible not to smile, there was just something about that boy and how he never would back down.

“Have I ever abandoned you on one of your big days Miss Rowley? I’ve always seen you through. At least until midnight.” He holds out his arm and she takes it, the familiar feel of his body against her arm, the smile won’t leave her lips, no reason why it should. In a way she wants to ask him about Camille, in almost every other way she doesn’t want to know. Instead she talks about the stars, the night is so clear that you can see them twinkle among the street lights. That’s why they eventually finds themselves on a bench, huddled closely together, looking up at the sky.

“Now it’s almost only four years left.” Freddie’s starring on the different constellations the stars are showing them, she gives him a questioning look.

“’Til what?” No matter how much her mind is sorting through the memories it doesn’t ring a bell.

“Until we’re living together in Luzern.” This makes her giggle, _that_ , she hasn’t thought about it in ages. Their impossible future together, the children, the plane, the crazy commute. It was truly something only Freddie could come up with.

“Do you really think we’d be happy there?” Turning towards her his eyes meets hers and he strokes a lock of hair away from her face.

“If we’re together.” He sounds so certain, she envies him. How he’s always so brave, always so sure of the way of the world.

“With everything that’s happened?” She, on the other hand, isn’t so sure, even that constantly burning light of hope can’t take the disbelief away from her.

“There’s only one way to find out.” He leans closer. The kiss he places on her lips is soft and light, just enough to make her lean in to meet the second one. It almost feels familiar now, his arm around her, her hand at the nape of his neck. He tastes sweet and somehow fruity, the taste of cigarette and liquor is as much hers as it is his. As the kisses grows deeper she can feel her doubts and worries drift away. When he eventually hugs her close he whispers into her hair. “I’m already feeling much better.”


	28. Doing something ridiculous (after)

Bel Rowley is one year older, one year wiser, one year more brilliant and on this second day of her 29th year, as she wakes up in the bed of Freddie Lyon, happier. She has to open her eyes twice to make sure it’s not a dream, the smell of coffee finding it’s way to her nostrils. When Freddie appears in the door with the breakfast tray in hand it makes her heart jump. She sits up and he places the tray in her lap, two toast and two cups of coffee. There’s a brief and cold draft as he lifts the cover and climbs in next to her. The huge smile on her lips is partly disbelief (is this really it?) and partly because it’s impossible for her to do anything else.

Her eyes follows Freddie's slender hands as he takes the coffee cup from her lap. When it reaches his lips she can see that he’s not much better than her with his wide grin, eyes glittering. If she could, this would make her smile more, instead the smile spreads inside of her, out to her toes which curls up with pleasure.

“Good morning Bel.” Words she’s heard many times before, now filled with another meaning, bringing another pleasing sensation with them.

“Good morning.” She bites her lip and takes that wonderfully smelling cup of hers. She wants to reach out her hand and ruffle his locks, kiss him on the cheek, but she doesn’t. It’s ridiculous really, they’ve never had any troubles talking and now they’re sitting there, close together, and like two love struck teenagers they’re worried that words or sudden movements might break the magic.

When they’ve eaten she twines her fingers with his, the skin so soft, she runs her fingers over a pertinent ink stain on his thumb. Closing her eyes she leans her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply. Freddie strokes her cheek and plants a kiss tenderly on her head.

“We’d better get to work.” She puts the tray on the floor and as she looks at him she finds herself unable not to stroke that lock of hair away from his eyes. There’s something about him, about his lips, she kisses him. She could never grow tired of the soft touch, his smell or the barely audible sound that escapes him. He’s right of course, considering they left together yesterday it would look suspicious if they were both late.

She showers quickly and when he does the same she wipes the mirror to put her make-up on. When they’re both dressed she steals a clean-shaven kiss from him, finding it impossible for her lips to not linger on his, he rewards her with stupidly wide grin.

Adjusting her jacket in the hallway mirror she can see Freddie coming up behind her, peeking over her shoulder. “You look radiant Moneypenny, as always.” In the mirror she notices him leaning in to kiss her cheek before she actually feels it, he does so with his eyes closed which for some reason makes her stomach flutter even more. “I know you think you’re not, but you’re wrong. In every way. You’re perfect in every way Bel Rowley.” She turns and wraps her arms around him, she’s never known what to say to his flattery and she’s even more at loss now. “Even if you snore.” She pushes him softly on the shoulder.

“I do not snore.” He laughs heartily, his hug tightening.

“It’s part of the appeal. Getting to know these things about you. I don’t mind.” She inhales his smell one last time before they head out the door, hand in hand.

Bel finds it almost impossible to focus at work. They’re keeping their distance, not ready for anyone to know but not really ready to let each other out of sight, or to stop smiling. It doesn’t take many minutes before she finds Lix leaning in her doorway, lighting a cigarette the woman moves closer, her eyes clearly noticing that Bel has not yet changed from yesterday.

“Congratulations darling.” Bel can see the smile on the older woman's lip's widening when she touches her producers cheek. “Happiness suits you.” Leaning on Bel's desk Lix talks absent-mindedly about pressing foreign affairs, as she observes Freddie, making it seem as if the news are not so urgent that they can’t wait until tomorrow. It’s just as well because every time Bel's gaze drifts towards Freddie she’s filled with an irresistible urge to corner him in an empty room. She can feel a blush creeping over her cheeks. Lix gives her a tender smile. “I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. At least you already know what this one’s worth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff as promised. Hope it's not too sugary. Or too out of character for that matter.


	29. Doing something sweet (before)

There’s a hard knock at the door, Bel glances at the clock beside her which recently passed five. It’s evening judging by the light outside but for all she cares it might be in the middle of the night, her cold has had her passed out on the sofa all day. It’s truly ruthless for someone to disturb her in this state which is why she doesn’t open, doesn’t even raise her head. There’s another hard knock and she can her Freddie's voice through the all too thin door.

“Open Bel, I know you’re in there.” Putting the pillow over her head she closes her eyes, willing both him and the cold away. “I’m not leaving.” She’d thought it’d be obvious to him that their evening plans were off when she called in sick at the office. It couldn’t have escaped him that she wasn’t there and someone must have told him why. That boy wasn’t stupid after all. There’s another knock and she musters a feeble _go away_ , the words not even travelling an inch from her mouth. So even though her whole body hurts she gets up, that horrible pounding on the door must stop, it resonates too loudly in her head. Even in her tiny apartment it’s a struggle for her to get to the door.

“Go away Freddie.” As soon as she gets the door ajar he sweeps past her with a concerned look on his face, throwing his coat on the nearest flat surface. 

“Nonsense. You want me here. No one should be alone when they’re sick.” Without the strength to argue she resumes the horizontal position on the couch, pillow under her head, the only way where her sinus doesn’t threaten to explode. Had she had a bit more energy she might have had one or two things to say to him about disturbing her like this but the truth is, that in her present state, it’s quite nice to listen to the sounds of him preparing tea in the kitchen. 

The sweet smell of soup wakes her up as Freddie puts down a bowl in front of her. Somehow he manages to get her to eat even though she has no appetite and would rather just sleep. Every spoonful is accompanied by kind words and a promise that this will be the last one, that he’ll leave her alone if she just finishes this one. When she’s eaten enough he places a pillow in his lap and her head on it, she smiles at him through her dizziness. 

“Go away Freddie.” Even if she has more strength now the words doesn’t, it’s nice to have him here. To have him close. He returns her smile and the answer he gives her is kind but firm. 

“No.” He tugs the blanket closer around her. “I’ll stay here until you’re better Bel.” She can feel him shift as he reaches for something besides the sofa, it pleases her that he won’t go. That he won’t abandon her. That he’ll stay for her even if she’s hideous and useless company. “When I was sick my father always used to tell me stories. Always made me feel better.” There’s that pleasing sound which new books make when you open them wide for the first time, breaking the back. Stroking her hair he starts to read out loud. 

“ _Chapter one. The secret agent._ ” That soft voice of his makes her relax, closing her eyes she burrows her head deeper in to the pillow that’s lying between her and his lap. “ _The scent of smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is Ian Fleming.


	30. Doing something hot (after)

Having just arrived back from a meeting Bel Rowley picks up the incoming correspondence waiting for her at the mailboxes, her presences is like a sign for Freddie to get up from his chair which he does as soon as he spots her. When she brings the papers into her office he follows her closely. For a second her doorway is crowded and she resists the urge to kiss him, they’re only inches apart and he whispers to her with that teasing voice of his.

“Morning Moneypenny.” She has to bite her lip to prevent that wide and euphoric smile to spread over her face, remembering when he said it to her this morning, one hand tangled in her hair, the other around her waist. “Good morning Freddie.” It’s a failed attempt to sound professional.

Trying her best to ignore him she puts on her glasses and, her eyes deep down in the documents, leans on her desk. He’s standing by her side, reading over her shoulder, wanting to be the first to see what new stories might unfold today. Their relationship has done nothing to decrease their hunger for news.

This particular morning she notices something blue in the corner of her eye, by a turn of her head it proves to be a small bouquet of blue flowers. She recognises them at first glance but their name escapes her momentarily, there’s a tiny card leaning against the vase.

_Today, tomorrow, onwards. x x F_

She turns to him with her brow slightly raised in a question she doesn’t have to ask.

“Flowers because you deserve them, frankly.” He smiles at her briefly before he turns his gaze out over the office, pretending like they’re discussing nothing more than possible stories. “They’re the blue ones because pink flowers reminds you of your mother, you think white flowers are for funerals, that lilies smell too much, that red roses are a cliché and I think orchids are dull.” He strokes her hand as he continues with a soft and tender voice. “You told me once that these particular blues reminds you of your grandmothers house and playing outside until nightfall. I thought that was charming. I think you are charming, Bel Rowley. Charming and beautiful.” Running her finger quickly over his cheek she wishes nothing more than to press her lips against his, she doesn’t, that would be unprofessional. Not that their new relationship seemed to have escaped anybody.

It had only taken a couple of days for the crew to catch on, when you’re expecting something it really only takes the smallest of signs to confirm it. Lix had of course been the first to notice, then Hector. He had hugged Bel close telling her how glad he was that they’d both finally come to their senses, promising that he would tell Marnie as soon as he got home. That big smile of his had been plastered all over his face that entire day.

Sissy hadn’t really said anything at all, she had just blushed and walked out when she caught the sight of Freddie's hand over Bel's, a tender look in his eyes, as she talked to one of their sources on the phone. Isaac had been the one who needed a bit of a nudge to realise it, Lix had given him that in the not-always-so-subtle way she employed. After that he’d blushed every time he saw them.

At the end of the day he goes to get them coffee, this is when she takes out the letters she didn’t send to him. She’s thought about showing them to him many times over the last couple of days but the truth is that it wouldn’t make any difference, he didn’t need to know how much she’d hoped for him to return and how hurt she’d been. It was true that she was yet to tell him that she loved him to his face, not only murmuring it into the nape of his neck at night when he was asleep. She would to that eventually, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, when she found the courage and it felt right.

Reading the letters again makes her want to throw them out, burn them, to forget about it all, they still hurt inside of her, but she can’t. A good journalist learns from mistakes and doesn’t shy away from remembering them. In the end she decides to keep them in her bottom drawer as a reminder of what she almost lost out of cowardice. A reminder for her to be brave, brave like her Freddie. Yes, tonight, tonight she will tell him that she loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed my first ever fanfic.

**Author's Note:**

> [The prompt in question](http://ericandy.tumblr.com/post/26596382488/ericandys-30-day-otp-challenge)   
>  [My tumblr tag](http://thinlyveiledsoul.tumblr.com/tagged/30-Day-OTP-Challenge)


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